The Time Until Forever
by Grey Like Stormy Skies
Summary: For twelve years, you never knew the relativity of time. It all seemed stable and equal to you, fair and unchanging. But then you noticed a girl, and suddenly everything was different. [JamesLily oneshot]


_**The Time Until Forever**_

For twelve years, you never knew the relativity of time. It all seemed stable and equal to you; fair and unchanging. Then you noticed a girl, and suddenly everything was different.

The first time you asked her out, she said she would go with you the day forever finally came. You took it with a smile and a wink, sending her off in an annoyed fit—you hadn't gotten the message. In the years to come, you still wouldn't; you only saw what you wanted to see then, and you certainly didn't want to see a lost chance with a beautiful girl. What you did want to see was Forever.

In the beginning, Forever seemed to stretch on to an impossible day. She had said you would be together once Forever came, but it was torture to wait. If you thought about it, you would have known she only said it because it was an impossibility, but thinking things through was never your forte. You decided to wait until Forever, maybe checking in with her a few times in between--just to make sure she hadn't changed her answer. You weren't sure what Forever would be like, but you hoped that when it came you would be able to recognize it.

Time seemed to stretch out endlessly as you flipped through calendar after calendar, half hoping one date to finally be labeled 'Forever.' It was almost torture, this constant rejection, but you couldn't give up; you had your heart and mind set on her, and to give up now would be to lose a bit of yourself you knew would never be found again. Time was your friend; whenever you were losing hope, the thought of being able to try again tomorrow brightened you, and rekindled your vigor.

Halfway through your third year, you finally realized school truly _was_ important to her; apparently it wasn't the same annoying chore forcing her to wake up each morning as it was to you. You realized schoolwork was a judging factor in how she viewed others, and you knew you wanted her to view you in a good light. You decided right then and there to become a good student; you were determined that by Seventh Year, you would be Head Boy to her Head Girl. It wouldn't be easy, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

For the most part, time was still even and constant then; every night you would devote two secret hours to reviewing; your friends—the only three who knew—were shocked and confused, but you didn't mind. Time was still your friend, and you knew they would get used to it eventually; one was proud, one was jealous, and one was astonished, but they all kept your secret. You may not be _her_ friend, but you had learnt enough to know that bragging about your work would only negate the elevating effect it would have on her opinion of you. So you kept it a secret, never once letting on that coursework truly wasn't beneath you, as you often said it was.

By Fourth Year, you were becoming one of the most popular boys in school, despite your still young age. You got caught up in the rush of the few seconds before a prank, and the long hours after, laughing and remembering the look on each surprised face. Time was still on your side; it was just long enough to make sure every prank, every trick, every curse was set up perfectly, and allowed you to escape each episode with minimal punishment.

But even if time was your friend, the girl you still sought after was far from it. As you entered your Fifth Year, her glares became more hostile, and her critiques more harsh. She no longer held back her opinions of you, and the truth left you feeling sad and deflated. A small bit of you wanted to change, and wanted to become the perfect student you knew she would like; the rest of you could never give up the admiring glances and respectful nods sent to you by the rest of the school. Mostly, you could never let down your friends, and so the constant pranks continued. And anyway, you still had three years left of school; time enough to change her mind about you, and most definitely time enough to wait until Forever.

A year later, time was becoming less of a friend, and more of an enemy. It was the last week of your second to last year of school, and tragedy struck you so sharply you found yourself breathless. Suddenly you were aware that you didn't have all the time in the world; life was an unpredictable thing, and you never knew how long yours would last. As many small life lessons your parents had tried to instill in you, this was the one that stuck, and it came only with their murders. You decided two things the night you got that black letter from the Ministry; the night you spent alone in the Astronomy Tower: you would avenge their deaths, and you would get the girl.

The last day of your Sixth year, you realized the months of fun you had had laughing at others practically ruined your chances of finding Forever with her. She had a near permanent opinion of you, and it was far from good. Your rude comments, spoken in the hopes of impressing her, only convinced her that you were an inconsiderate git. The Giant Squid had a better chance than you did, and it killed you.

You left school that summer without saying a word to her; you were stuck somewhere between feeling ashamed and feeling angry. You didn't think she had the right to judge you without ever having a legitimate conversation with you, but you knew you had given her nothing to deny it. The situation wasn't looking good, and your heart ached of sadness and loss, begging you not to let it break again.

The start of Seventh Year showed little change. She still screamed and turned an interesting shade of red each time she saw you, and your hand still jumped to your hair each time she came into view. It seemed as though Forever would never come; knowing that broke your heart just a bit more, same as it had broken so many hearts before you.

Your first week of Seventh Year was spent in a depressed stupor; not even your friends could drag you out of it. Each meeting you had with her was torture, whether it was a small "Hullo" in the hallway, or the hour-long talk you were required to have every other week—Head Student business. You were no longer pranking—students or teachers—and it had been months since the school had heard a joke pass through your lips. By October, she was noticing.

It was mid November when she first commented on it. "You seem different, Potter." It was only four words, but they sparked something inside of you. You _had_ been different; you had become somber and serious after the deaths of your parents; you had learned life was not permanent, and you had grown up. But did that mean you had to stop living your own life; did it mean you had to be dead on the inside as well?

In almost every way, she saved you. For months, the grief inside of you had refused to be pacified. Somehow, after those four small words, you were able to turn that grief into ambition; somehow, you were able to turn that grief into a driving force of hope.

Day by day, you slowly formed a friendship with her. It was difficult, and in the beginning, you watched your every word. You were petrified of making a mistake; of slipping up and destroying the fragile friendship you had waited so long for. Time took it's own sweet time, but by January, you were as comfortable around her as you were around your three best mates.

By March, you had started a relationship, and that was when you truly learned the fickleness of time. Whenever you were with her, it seemed to fly by, and hours seemed like minutes; when you were apart, seconds seemed to stretch on for days. But despite your annoyance at this new relativity, you couldn't complain; somehow time had gotten you to Forever, and the girl you had almost given up on now wouldn't let you go for anything. You were truly happy, and there was no time you could remember to be better than this.

One night in the spring, you decided time was an indecisive, unequal, and unfair device. You had finally gotten up the courage to ask for her hand in marriage—the hours of the date seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, but the second's pause as she stared at the ring in your hand seemed to never end. You held your breath, and cursed time for the very _first_ time.

You would continue to do so again and again, though it slowly came back to your side in the game of life. School ended in a flurry of memories; graduation was a bittersweet day, full of thoughts of the past, and hopes of the future. You sat on a chair for an hour, thinking of your parents, and their smiling faces as you first got on that train seven years ago; when you looked up, you saw the smiling faces of the four people who had made your graduation possible. Time had changed many things, but you were discovering that it wasn't all for the worse.

You married in July; a beautiful summer wedding that left women in tears and men shifting uncomfortably in their suits, wondering when they could escape to find the free drinks. Time played tricks with you then, too. The months and days before the wedding had passed quickly in a blur of invitations and flower orders, but those minutes she was walking down the aisle near killed you. Time seemed devastatingly slow as she took each step, and you could have sworn it stopped completely as you locked eyes. But the wedding continued on, and soon you were married.

The next year felt as long as a week, and all too quickly there was a baby boy resting in your arms. Looking into his face, you were positive that time was stopped; as you looked down into his emerald green eyes, you could only hope that one day he would find his Forever, just as you had. Such a beautiful and innocent face held your attention absolutely, but soon an excited godfather pulled him out of your arms, smiling and spinning your boy round and round.

You tried to remember the details of each of your twenty years, but found it impossible; in your memory it was as though time had hit the fast forward button. It was all relative, you thought to yourself; the years spent chasing after your girl were worth only a second of her time, yet somehow you had managed to secure an entire lifetime with her.

Sitting at your kitchen table now, you smile. It's been another year, and you still can't understand how it has gone by so fast. Time is no longer your friend; it is allowing your son to grow up too quickly, and you aren't ready to be old quite yet. You let out a laugh as the boy in front of you crawls after an escaping Chocolate Frog. His mother frowns at first, but a wink from you and she is grinning as well.

You catch her eye, and for a moment, everything else is forgotten; she is the girl you've loved since you were thirteen, and she's the girl you'll love for the rest of the life. No matter how fickle time may be.

"I love you."

The words are spoken simultaneously; spontaneous and true. You smile at each other, and it is the first occasion in months that you can remember appreciating time.

It's Halloween, and tomorrow is the first of November. Sitting there at your kitchen table, you decide to have a picnic in the living room tomorrow—you know she's been sad you have to stay inside. By conjuring a few leaves, and spreading out a nice blanket, you'll try to bring the outside to her. It won't be perfect, but your wife will smile and kiss you, and your beautiful son with giggle and clap his hands, no doubt giving his approval.

Time and life have given you a set back this past month, but you know it will be conquered. As you look at your wife, whose eyes are riveted in amazement at her little boy, you know your love can survive anything; you know her love for her baby can never be destroyed. You will make it through this difficult period, and then time will give you a lifetime to live.

There's a rustle of leaves outside, and your body tenses slightly as you look at the clock. It's too early for your friend to stop by for his weekly check-in, so you settle back in your chair, blaming the wind. Your little boy shrieks in excitement as he finally catches his treat, and it masks the soft clips of shoes on the walkway.

You lift two legs of the chair off the ground as you lean back and close your eyes. You can hear your baby's giggles, and your wife's tinkling laugh as she reaches down to scoop up her son.

You smile to yourself. _You still have all the time in the world._

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A/N: If you recognize this, it's because it's reposted, so no worries…

Seeing as you've taken the time to read this and I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions, it would be greatly appreciated if you took another minute to leave a review. Thanks!


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